


Tale of Myria

by le_paquet_fou



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-01-21 10:48:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21298208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/le_paquet_fou/pseuds/le_paquet_fou
Summary: First draft of a book I hope to publish. Final won't be posted here
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

They believe she’s dead. They believe everyone like her is dead. She doesn’t mind this. It’s a world filled with contempt, a world of survival. All she needs to do is focus on the neck. She takes careful aim, a blankness washing over her. The string pulls back until it’s taught, and by simply letting go, the arrow streaks through the air and right at her target. They gasp, grabbing at the arrow as people rush to the man’s side. They don’t even notice her slip away back into the forest as the life leaves the man, her deed done.


	2. Chapter 1

Another assassination in Tolomoch. Of course. When has it ever been calm? Thomas sighs and leans back in his chair, rubbing his temple as he tries to wrap his head around this. The trouble isn’t who’s behind the assassinations; political rivals have always been ready to kill one another. The problem is who is doing the dirty work. Of course these high class citizens wouldn’t want to stain their beautiful clothes with blood. It’s an interesting case, to be sure.

It’s troubling how little is known about these assassins. They get paid, according to those who have confessed to paying assassins. But that leads nowhere. There are no names, no faces, not a single trace of whoever these people are except for the bodies they leave behind. Even the politicians don’t know who they are. They’re an enigma, plaguing Myria as they do the devil’s work.

Thomas can’t find an answer to this. How can he? There’s no information, and even his best men can’t find anything. It’s like they’re phantoms. How is a human supposed to find a ghost? He can’t, is the answer. They’re stuck, with no way to stop this. A knock on his door snaps Thomas out of his brooding.

“Uh, sir?”

“Come in.” The door squeaks open, and a thin boy, sixteen at best, walks in. The intern. Thomas motions for him to sit. The boy takes a seat, his body quaking. Poor boy, so scared. “So, what’s going on. Any news?”

“None that’s good, I’m afraid, sir. You’re needed for a speech. A word from the police.”

“Ah.” Of course. That’s always the case, isn’t it? “What time?”

“Four thirty, sir. In the afternoon.”

“Alright. Thank you. You may go now.” The boy stands up and gives an awkward salute before running off. Thomas tidies up all of the reports and papers, putting them neatly in his desk before taking out a clean sheet of paper and writing his small proclamation. The ink from the quill creates beautiful curves as he writes these words, meaningless from their repetition. After all, it’s all formalities. Nobody really cares. They all know this will fix nothing.

~~~~

He stands behind the curtain, to the side of the stage. The current leader, Samuel Maldridge, gives his own opening speech, the same everyone before him has given for as long as Thomas can remember. He can see all the people in the crowd, all with blank faces, unfazed. Yes, some of the children seem scared, but that’ll pass. Cynicism is common in Myria. Everyone grows up into it.

Maldridge ends his speech and welcomes Thomas up on stage. People clap as he walks on, and Maldridge gives him a clap on the back as he goes up.

“Don’t mess up, Buckley.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Thomas takes his place at the podium, clearing his throat and shifting his papers a bit. “Citizens, I know this is a trying time. It’s horrible to see that so many people have been killed in this past year; however, I promise that the Myrian Protection Force will do everything in its power to stop the deaths and bring peace to this country. We will double our efforts to find these criminals and bring them to justice.” Some people cheer, although it sounds pathetic. Nobody cares. Everyone knows it’s a lie anyways.

He gives them a quick wave and walks off the stage, slumping into a chair off to the side as Maldridge walks back on and closes off the event, if he can even call it that. Thomas watches the faceless crowd, unable to really think or focus. How is he supposed to? It’s just a reminder of how pointless this speech is.

The little intern boy pops back up, even more nervous than before. What is it with this kid? Thomas puts his head in his hands as the boy walks over, fumbling with a letter in his hand. He places it on the table in front of Thomas, standing aside awkwardly. That poor kid. Thomas looks up.

“Uh, s-sir, a message for you from Liringyo. Something about forest people?” Forest people?

“What?”

“Sorry. I took a little peek. I didn’t realize it was super important, sir.” Thomas opens the letter, which was clearly opened prior. At least the kid is honest. He scans over the page. From Captain Ilmaque. Of course, she always has information first. Thomas reads it as closely as he can, and stares at it for a while once he’s done.

Thomas doesn’t know if he can believe Ilmaque’s report, but he knows she’s never lied to him before. There’s no way she would ever fabricate a report. If that’s the case, this is the most valuable piece of information he’s ever been given.

“Hey, what’s-your-name, kid, come here.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Get me some paper, and a quill. I need to write a few letters.”

“Of course, sir.” The boy salutes and runs off. Thomas gets up and finds a desk, seating himself at a relatively clear part of it. The boy comes back a few minutes later with paper, a quill, and a pot of ink. Thomas takes the materials out of the boy’s hands, setting them down on the desk. He immediately starts writing the letters, anxious to spread the news as quickly as possible. This could crack the case of these rogue assassins wide open. He can’t miss this chance.

~~~

“Welcome. I’m sure you’re all wondering what could possibly be so important that I call you together before our annual meeting. Captain Ilmaque will clear this all up for you.” Thomas steps aside, letting Ilmaque take the stage.

“Thank you, sir. The reason we’re all here today is that I believe we finally cracked the case of the mysterious assassins.” A murmur spreads through the room, the captains of the different regions exchanging disbelieving glances. “After ten years of being plagued by these people, one slipped up and got caught. It took a lot, but we managed to squeeze some information out of them. It appears that they are a group of rogues, living in the forest and doing odd jobs for money, most notably, assassinations. We don’t know much about how they live, but it should be our top priority to exterminate these forest people to bring peace and safety to this nation.”

“How do you suppose we go about that?”

“We will create a special task force to go out into the forest to track them down. Extreme caution is to be taken. These people are trained killers; they are the deadliest out there. Only our most skilled men will go out there, and they must be trained to take these people down.”

“Who will lead them?” A silence fills the room. Planning never actually got that far. Everyone glances around the room, trying to get an answer from others. No one knows. Thomas clears his throat and steps up.

“I will.” The captains all look to him, incredulous.

“Sir-” Ilmaque starts.

“No, I know what I’m getting into. I’m willing to take the risk. This country needs to be rid of these people once and for all, and I will do everything in my power to make sure they will be killed.” There is a long pause before one of the other captains has the courage to speak up and break the silence.

“Sir, who will take over the force while you’re gone?” A good question.

“Captain Ilmaque will take over my duties. I trust in her abilities to lead the protection of this country.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ilmaque gives Thomas a small bow. An awkwardness spreads across the room. A few people clear their throat, but no one else speaks.

“If there are no more questions, then I believe this meeting is finished. Please send me a list of all the men you have selected by the end of this week and send them to the training camp in Tolomoch by next Wednesday. Thank you all for coming.” A chorus of scraping chairs rises through the room as people get up, quickly thanking Thomas before leaving. Ilmaque is the only one to stay, a loyal friend and second in command. Thomas sits down at the table, Ilmaque joining him.

“Tom, are you sure about this? Going after them, I mean. We don’t have any information from the suspect except for what he is, and that took days. I’m just not sure that this is a good approach.” Thomas folds his arms on the table, his brow furrowed. He thinks for only a moment before sighing.

“Emily, I know what I’m doing.”

“But we don’t have any information. I don’t want you to run off and get killed because you’re underprepared. We need to interrogate the suspect, get more information from him. I know it will take a while, but we can’t rush an issue as important as this.”

“And I am not rushing it. I have a plan, and I know it will work.”

“But how? We don’t know anything.”

“Then bring me to the suspect. I’ll interrogate him myself and get the information I need.”

“Tom-”

“That’s an order, captain.” Emily backs down, nodding her head and sighing.

“Yes, sir. Follow me.” With that they get up, and Emily leads Thomas down a maze of hallways until they reach the entrance to the jail. She opens the door and they down the long stone hallway. It’s quite different here than the rest of the building. It’s made of old stone, relatively well kept at the beginning, but slowly more and more decrepit as the hall continues. There are jail cells at the beginning, for sure, but the cells start to be replaced by rooms for interrogation as one travels further. They walk down, their boots clicking on the floor, until they reach one of the last rooms. Thomas reaches for the handle of the wooden door and opens it, the creaking of the door on its hinges echoing against the walls and grating against their ears. Thomas enters and closes the door behind him, leaving Ilmaque outside as a guard.

Thomas hasn’t been in an interrogation room in a long time. He never really wanted to be back in one; he always hated what it meant when he had to go in. He glances around the room, quickly finding a cloaked figure, slumped over and bound to one of the chairs. There’s no hint of blood in the air, nor scorched flesh, so clearly they haven’t done much to the suspect. Yet. He stokes the fire, making sure it’s still vibrant, before grabbing the other chair and sitting across from the suspect. He sits in silence for a long time, waiting for the suspect to do something, but he doesn’t even move.

“Not very talkative, are you?” No response. “Ah, that’s a shame. You know, if you talk, I might lighten your sentence. Life imprisonment instead of death.” Still no answer. “Or not. Whatever works for you, I suppose. Say, why don’t we have a little chat. Nothing important, just an icebreaker. Here, I’ll go first. My name is Thomas, and I hate cilantro. Tastes like soap. Now you.” The form shifts slightly, and Thomas can now just barely make out the shadowed face of the man underneath the cloak.

“You think you’ll get me to say anything by talking about cilantro?” A raspy voice asks.

“No, but I do like to get to know the people I’m interrogating.”

“Why, you find pleasure in torturing them?”

“No again. It just helps me see who they are as a person. Let’s me know if they’re a psychopath or just misguided. Helps with the sentences, you know. I don’t want to misjudge a person and give them a punishment they don’t deserve.” Thomas leans in just a little bit, narrowing his eyes. “That being said, the person needs to talk. If not, then for crimes as severe as yours, they’ll be in the gallows in a day. I’d say for your own self interest, you better start talking.” The cloaked man lets out a chuckle, just barely a whisper of a laugh. He looks up at Thomas, his bruised and battered face finally illuminated by the flames of the fire.

“I won’t talk. There’s nothing more you can do to make me say anything more.”

“Very cocky, aren’t you? Well, I admire that. It can be a good trait, in moderation; however, that doesn’t quite fit here. You have to be a bit more cautious.” Thomas stands up and pulls his sword from its sheath, placing it in the hot coals in the fireplace. He can’t see any sort of fear in the suspect’s eyes, but he can see that he’s thinking now. Thinking means fear, and fear is exactly what Thomas needs to get the information he wants.

“What are you planning to do? Torture me? Isn’t that illegal.”

“In most cases, yes. But you must understand that yours is a special case. An assassin wanted for the murders of multiple political leaders just for some cash. It’s high treason.” Thomas grabs his sword out of the coals, the tip of the blade just slightly glowing orange. Perfect.

“What are you going to do? Burn me? You’ve put us through hell, that’ll do nothing.”

“Is that so?” So there’s an ‘us’. Interesting, for sure. “Who is this ‘us’, then?”

“You seriously can’t even remember? There are generations upon generations of people you have slighted and wronged, yet you don’t remember a single person?”

“I’m afraid not. Please elaborate, though. I’m piqued.”

“You don’t deserve that pleasure.” Thomas pulls his chair closer to the suspect, still not named, and presses the hot iron under his chin. He starts to squirm and tries to get away, but the ropes keep him in his seat.

“I might not deserve it, but I want it. You will tell me, understood?”

“What will you do if I don’t, kill me?”

“Eventually, yes. But you will suffer until you finally hang from the gallows.” The suspect swallows down his fear, but not before Thomas sees it. He knows he has the higher ground, but there’s something so surprisingly satisfying in seeing someone fall to their instincts. He presses the sword into the little divot beneath his chin, and the suspect lets out a small groan. Perfect.

“You can’t do this.”

“I can, and will, until you give me what I’m looking for.” The suspect spits in his face, grinning as Thomas wipes it away with his sleeve. All he does is calmly drop the sword to his chest. Finally, fear glints in the suspects eyes.

“You’re a monster,” he says, his voice quaking. “You all are.”

“I won’t be if you just answer my questions. You’ll avoid your death, and could even have a chance to get back into this corrupt society. It’s all up to you.” The suspect’s cloak sizzles as the sword presses closer and closer to his heart. Thomas watches the suspect’s resolve crumble, his body quivering.

“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll tell you.”

“Good. Now, who are you?”

“I can’t remember.”

“At all?”

“I call myself North.”

“Alright, North. Who are these people you talk about? This ‘us’?”

“Do you remember the outcasts? Those you discarded like garbage?”

“Outcasts…?”

“Don’t play dumb.” The sword presses closer, and North gulps. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Parents die or abandon their children, and all of you take it as an excuse to throw us away to die.” Thomas’ eyes widen in shock and understanding. “See, you know. And now you know you failed. You can’t get rid of everyone you deem unfit. We’ll just come back and remind you of your mistakes until you fall.”

“And is that your goal? To remind us?”

“My goal is to get paid doing what I do best. That’s the only goal all of us have. We don’t care what we have to do to get that, though. Just like you.” A rage fills Thomas, something so rare and uncontrollable in him. He stands up, looming over North and pressing the glowing sword slowly into his chest. North starts to gasp from the pain, but a wicked smile creeps across his lips.

“You…”

“Look at this. Can’t you see this horror you’ve become? You’re no better than us, no matter what you say.” Thomas doesn’t think twice as he thrusts the sword into North, his mind red with rage. North laughs as Thomas stalks away, raspy and faint, but it echoes in Thomas’ head as he slams the door and walks back down the hall with Ilmaque trailing behind.

“Sir, what happened in there? Sir?” There’s no response, and the only sound is their boots clacking down the hall back into Thomas’ office. He sits down with a thump at his desk, pulling out paper and writing down the entire interaction. He had to get it down on paper and make sure he didn’t forget a single detail. He might not have gotten everything he wanted, but all of this information is priceless. Now it’s just up to training troops to get those snakes and end those people once and for all.


	3. Chapter 2

It all flowed so smoothly. The captains did not disappoint with the men they sent; in fact, some Thomas knew personally, and he knew he could trust them in such a high stakes mission. Not much training is needed, he knew. It’s much more conditioning in the minds of the men in how to act. Survival tactics, attention to surroundings, and care to not get spotted. Yes, these men were the best of the best, but they needed to learn subtlety.

“Listen here, men,” Thomas called out to the rows of men in front of him, all at attention and waiting for commands. “You were chosen for the most important mission in all of Myria’s history. You will bring peace to the tumultuous political landscape plaguing this land by helping to eradicate those low enough to commit the crimes you have tried so long to stop.

“My job is not to train you, for you are all as good as they come. No, my job here is to teach you how to attack those we cannot see; those that are too cowardly to come out and face us head on but instead lurk in the shadows under hooded capes. You will learn how to survive in their territory and fight against them. We will slaughter all of them and finally free Myria from it’s plague we have previously tried to eradicate.” A patriotic cheer erupts from the men, and Thomas smiles. Finally, he can do what he was meant to; help Myria come back to its former glory.

He disperses the crowd, letting them go get their first meal of the day. It will be a long fortnight, but it’ll be well spent. After all, this is the first and hopefully last time they will ever have to need these skills.

Thomas walks back to his quarters to prepare for the day ahead. He won’t admit to his men that he’s as unprepared for this as they are. Survival isn’t something you learn in a safe environment. These sorts of skills are unusual, unneeded, and yet…

“Sir?” He turns around. Ah, the survival expert. He’s much scrawnier than expected. And shorter. This is disappointing.

“Yes?”

“Ah, are you Commander Buckley?”

“One and only. How may I help you?”

“Well, I was wondering where I’m needed right now. I’m not sure how you’ll go about the training, but I realise I am a part of it.”

“Yes, you are. You’ll be training them.” He can notice a spike of fear go through the small man, a shudder going through his body. To his credit, he does regain his composure quickly.

“Ah, I see. I’m sure you can guide me through the first day, at least. I can take over after that.”

“Of course. Here, follow me. You should get some rest. I hear you’ve had quite the journey.”

“Oh, that. It wasn’t much, Mr. Buckley. Quite comfortable, actually.” Thomas leads the expert, Makley as he calls himself, to his quarters, taking a seat across from him in the small room. They share coffee and toast as they talk, figuring out how exactly to go about training. Mackley is much too quiet and nervous to command the men and earn their respect, so Thomas will have to teach and learn at the same time. Difficult, but not impossible.

They leave the small hut, going back out to the field now filled with troops standing at attention. Thomas and Makley stand at the front of the group.

“Alright men. Mr. Makley is here to teach you what you’ll need to know once we’re out in those woods. Make sure to pay attention; this is not only a matter of protection for your country, but a matter of your life or death. Do you understand?”

“Sir, yes sir!” the crowd thunders. Makley flinches, but he quickly stands up straight, trying to mimic Thomas. He claps his hands together, and Thomas can notice a little glint in his eyes. This is his territory now.

“Okay. The first thing to focus on is building shelter. The simpler, the better, especially if you are going to be moving around a lot. A lean-to should work well, but I’ll show you every shelter you could possibly need to use, just in case the materials aren’t available. Firstly…”

Makley goes on to explain the different shelters, the pros and cons to each, and how to assemble them. He then groups up the troops and has them practice building these shelters. It takes the better part of the day, skipping lunch to get in all of the most necessary shelters. It’s exhausting, even to Thomas, who is just watching.

When they finally break for the evening, Thomas can’t help but sigh in relief. He didn’t expect Makley to be so intense. Perhaps he won’t have to worry so much about his ability to train the troops; he’s more than capable.

Thomas barely eats when he gets to his quarters, opting for, yet again, toast and coffee, but this time with fruits on the side. He should get used to not eating much, anyways. They won’t be able to carry massive amounts of rations, especially with such an open ended mission. Who knows how long it could go on for? Weeks, months? Will they even be able to find all of the people they’re searching for?

This new doubt is troubling, to say the list. The leader shouldn’t doubt. Thomas is the anchor of this mission. With a weak anchor, there’s no way for a ship to function as it should. He does his best to snap himself out of it, busying himself with paperwork concerning supplies for his troops. That should help to distract him.

~~~~

The past two weeks have been long and tiresome. Always something new, and so many things to keep track of. Thomas is sure he’s going to forget at least half of the things he’s been told. He wishes he could bring Makley along, but he needs to stay. Should things go south, it’s good to have someone who can teach a new unit to carry out what they could have failed to do.

He doesn’t like to admit it, but his doubt is growing with every day that passes. There are too many things to keep track of, even though he’s cut down his force to only twenty people. That’s not nearly enough people to carry out the mission he’s planned, and yet that’s still stretching it. Only one medic, and they all have to carry 50 pounds of equipment. They’ll be slow, incapable of anything. He won’t tell the troops, but he can see the disaster this will end up being. What was he thinking?

He won’t tell the troops in front of him of his doubts, though. Instead, he stands in front of them, the perfect image of confidence and composure.

“Our time has come, men. Today, we will start our mission of eradicating these creatures. We will be the ones to finally bring peace to Myria and all of its citizens. We will head in as brave warriors, and exit as heroes” A cheer rises from the small crowd, and Thomas smiles proudly. “Let us go, and be the bringers of peace.” He climbs onto his horse as the troops pick up their equipment, spurring it on towards the dark forest.

He can’t help but feel the pit in his stomach grow as they march into the beautifully mysterious woods. He’s leading them to their death, and he knows it, but he’s realised it too late. Now there’s nothing he can do as he marches his troops into unfriendly territory against enemies they’re nowhere near prepared to fight against.

~~~~

The men are upset, he knows it. They’re hungry, dehydrated, and filthy. This entire mission was a disastrous failure already. Many have already fallen ill, their supplies have already run out, and they’re exhausted. They haven’t found a single of these forest people in the weeks that they’ve been out here, and he knows they never will. Their own incompetence is going to kill them.

“Sir?” One of them staggers up to him, weary and ragged. God, they’ve fallen apart.

“Yes?”

“How much longer must we stay here? Why can’t we go back?”

“It won’t be long now. Have patience.” The man just looks at him with tired, blank eyes before nodding slowly and turning away. What has he done?

Nothing wrong, he reasons. This is for the greater good. They’ll either finish their mission, or die trying. That’s what he promised, and he won’t fail.

He gathers up the troops and starts leading them through the forest. The sunlight falls down on them, pebbled by the leaves. Thomas can’t help but feel it’s oddly peaceful. He expected a forest filled with killers to be dark and foreboding, but all it’s been is bright and calm. It’s too perfect, and it makes him uneasy.

They take a break in the middle of the day for food and water. The rations are tiny now, and they’ve been forced to scavenge, but none of them have been able to find much. Still, the small meal, with berries some have found, is a feast to them. They sit clustered together, chatting as if nothing were wrong. Amazing, what a break can do for people.

As he’s talking with one of the troops, Thomas swear he sees a shadow move out of the corner of his eye. He tries to not pay any attention to it, but with every rustle of leaves he jumps a little. The troops give him odd stares, but he blames it on a lack of sleep. That has to be it, anyways.

Once they’ve eaten and have rested enough, they start to prepare to march on. Thomas hops onto his horse and begins to leave when a scream pierces the air. He turns around and watches as arrows fall from the trees with horrifying precision, hitting each man in the throat and chest. He’s rooted to his saddle, unable to get himself to move, as the troops fall despite their best efforts. They try to hide, running away from an invisible enemy, but collapse as they do.

It’s a massacre. They all lie there, bloodied and defeated, dying right in front of his eyes. Arrows stick out of them, seemingly rooting them to the ground as their blood pools around them. Dear Lord, what has he done?

Thomas finally snaps to his senses, and tries to spurr his horse on to leave. It makes it only a few feet before rearing up, tossing him through the air and onto the ground. The last thing he sees is the beautiful beast falling to the ground as everything goes black.


	4. Chapter 3

The others leave quickly, disappearing back into their shadows. Not her, though. She drops down to the ground with a light thud, hardly making a sound. She sweeps over the remains of the group.  _ Murderers, all of them _ , she thinks. She doesn’t care if she’s hypocritical right now, because unlike them, she’s defending herself. They do nothing but lie, cheat, and steal, all for their own gain. It’s disgusting.

She stoops down over every single one of them, rummaging lightly through their clothes. Hardly any of them have anything useful on them. One has a nice knife, better than the one she has, so she swaps it. Some have extra little bags that she ties to her belt, and some of the bags even have valuables, like rings and gold coins. She could sell the rings for coins and get better gear when she stops off in Lakai. All for later, though.

She pauses at the fallen horse. A pity such a gorgeous and powerful creature had to be downed. She gently pats its neck before moving on to the man laying down a few feet away from it. As she gets closer, she notices his chest moving up and down slowly. So the throw didn’t kill him. Shame.

She approaches slowly, her new knife brandished, ready to finish up what she failed to do. She freezes when he groans and turns over. His eyes open, and they lock gazes. They stare for what feels like an eternity, but is really only two seconds, before the man screams. He tries to scramble up to his feet, but he just falls back down on his ass.

She can’t help but notice he’s shaking. Not just a light tremor, but as if the earth below him was quaking. And his eyes, brown like the dirt staining his once brightly coloured uniform, are swimming in fear.  _ Pathetic. A man like him shouldn’t be so cowardly _ , she thinks.

She watches silently as he fumbles with his sword, trying desperately to get a grip on it. This is almost amusing for her. Like a predator playing with their prey before slaughtering it. He eventually gets a solid hold on it, pointing it at her. She watches the thin blade tremble, and almost laughs.

“Stop! Don’t come any closer.” This time she can’t hold back a laugh. “What?”

“So pathetic,” she whispers. She takes her bow from her shoulder and nocks an arrow, pointed right at his heart. She can see the panic and fear swell up in him, uncontrollable now. He drops the sword and cowers, curling away as if that could save him.

“W-wait. Don’t shoot, I beg you.”

“Then beg.”

“No! Please, please, I can help you.”

“Bargaining. You’re in denial. I thought that would be below you, considering you live so high and mighty.”

“I swear I can. I have political connections.”

“And I should care?”

“I can get you anything you want, anything.”

“I don’t care for material gains.”

“What about peace?”

“Peace? You were sent to kill.”

“I know, I know, but only because it was my job. I don’t want to do this, I swear.” She lowers the bow, skeptical, to be sure. She knows she can’t trust him; she has to kill him. But she can’t. She doesn’t know why, and it bothers her to no end, but she sighs as she puts the arrow back in it’s quiver and slings the bow back around her shoulder. The man shakily rises to his feet, not falling this time.

“Come.” And she walks off. She knows he wouldn’t dare kill her. Not when he’s the one who’s afraid. Not when he knows he’s the prey. She can hear his heavy footsteps behind her, thumping loudly on the ground. He’s clearly not trying to be stealthy. Not trying at all.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere.” She hears him sigh in annoyance. “Bold of you to act so arrogantly right now.” He stutters a little bit, but he doesn’t say anything. He catches up to her and tries to speak, but is shut down by the disgust and annoyance rolling off of her in waves. She makes sure he knows she’s just barely tolerating her existence; after all, that’s what he’s done to her and everyone else like her. He should be able to handle some of that, no?

“So, what’s your name?” She doesn’t bother answering. “I’m Thomas Buckley, commander of the Myrian Police Force. Been in that position for ten years now. Took over when the previous one was assassinated.” She knows he hoped to strike a chord with her, but it doesn’t. She just doesn’t care. Why would she care about some random man? “I was only twenty six then. Quite a job to put on me, but he was my father and wanted me to succeed him.”

“I know what you’re doing,” she states simply. It startles him, and he shuts up.  _ Thank god. _

“So you’ll really say nothing?”

“If I tell you my name, will you shut up?” He doesn’t answer. “Alya. It’s Alya. Now please, for the love of god, shut up.” Finally, Thomas stops talking. She nearly sighs in relief. Does he think acting like an innocent toddler is going to save him? He can’t be that stupid.

She takes a quick glance over at him, watching silently as he takes note of his surroundings. She can see his mind at work, masking it by trying to seem like he’s fascinated by the forest. So he’s not stupid. Desperate, perhaps, but not stupid. He’s calculated, and probably more of a menace if he had his bearings. Perhaps even an opponent.

Alya turns her gaze back forwards, focusing on the trees ahead. She knows she’ll have to stay away from any others for the time being. This man, Thomas, he’s a liability. She needs to find a way to get rid of him, any way she can. She doesn’t care if it’s killing, bribery, or owing him a favour. She will do what she must.

She pauses by a small stream, kneeling down at its bank to refill her canteen. She hears Thomas drop to the ground behind her, groaning a little bit as he settles down. She ignores him, for now, focusing instead on what to do with him. She’s led him further here, and without a weapon he can’t hurt her. He’s not a threat anymore. Still, she can’t let her guard down. Trusting him now would be foolish, and she’s far from that.

She sits down once the canteen is full, taking a swig from it as she rifles through her bag. She finds bandages and tosses them back to Thomas. He can take care of himself if he’s injured.

She also takes out an apple, biting into it as she watches the stream bubble calmly over small rocks and stones. The leaves rustle in the slight wind and birds twitter happily. It’s always nice to hear how alive the forest is, especially when undisturbed. It’s calming, and Alya doesn’t have to think about anything else. Except, of course, Thomas. She has to get to the bottom of this.

“So, what caused you and your group to come out here?” She turns a little bit, and sees him look up in shock. He’s wrapping up his arm, a little bit of blood leaking through the bandaging.

“Well, ah, a mission.” He starts to fidget. He’s a bad actor.

“I know you’re not the quiet and anxious type. Come on now, that mission. What was it?” He sighs.

“To kill you.”

“Me specifically, now?”

“What? No, all of you!”

“Because…” She watches him think for a bit. He reminds her almost of a toddler, like some of the ones they take in, still learning, still figuring out the world. It’s not a cute look on him.

“I hate to offend, but you’re not exactly the best type of people. You assassinate politicians for a living, and I hate to think of what you do that we don’t know about.”

“And that makes me worse than you?”

“Praytell, how does it not?”

“You’re on a genocidal mission, aren’t you?” He pauses. He can’t counter that. “I won’t pretend we don’t have our evils, but it’s circumstantial. We would be just like you if you didn’t cast us out.”

“We cast you out because you’re evil!”

“Yes, because children are  _ so _ maniacal and scheming.”

“I-”

“Tell me why we’re so evil. Give a reason, a solid reason that anyone would believe, that you cast us away.” He sits and ponders a bit. She turns back around, not expecting an answer. It’s impossible to answer that without going back hundreds of years and realising you think the same as some idiots that believed in demons and witchcraft. It won’t change his mind, of course; nothing is that quick, but it could help.

“Well, you had to be abandoned for a reason.”

“And those of us that had our parents die?”

“Poisoned them.” He’s infuriating. How can he be so convinced he’s right? How can a person be that ignorant? She sighs, picking herself up off the ground. Thomas looks up at her, annoyed. “What, you’re not going to answer?”

“I shouldn’t have to answer your idiotic assumptions.” He tries to speak back, but she raises her hand, cutting him off. “Anymore of your stupid accusations, and I won’t hesitate to kill you.” She hopes she has the nerves to. It’s one thing to shoot someone from a distance, it’s another to look them in the eye and stab them.

She can see his eyes widen with fear for just a split second. Good, she got to him. He stands up shakily, looking around. He’s gauging the situation as much as she is, trying to figure out what to do to have things go in his favour because clearly he has his own gains. He doesn’t have any highground, though. She isn’t afraid of him, and she doesn’t respect him, whereas he fears for his life.

“Where are we going?”

“Over the stream. I’m taking you to a small town in Lakai. I’ll decide what to do with you when we get there.” He squirms a little bit. He’s not used to having no control. Alya smiles, hiding it under the shadow of her hood. She can’t help it; it’s fun to see someone with so much hubris fall from his cloud.

She leaps across the stream in just a couple bounds, using rocks as stepping stones before landing softly on the other side. She turns and waits for Thomas, watching as he plods awkwardly through the stream. He joins her on the other side with his dirt caked boots now soaked in water. Every step he takes squelches under his weight. He holds out the nadages, handing them back to her.

“Figured you would want this.” She takes them silently, placing them in the small bag hanging by her hip. She turns back around and walks off into the forest, not too quickly so she can keep an eye on Thomas. He’s already getting way too confident for her comfort. He’ll try to pull something as soon as they step foot in Laika, she knows it. Better keep him on a short leash.

It shouldn’t take long to get there, two days at most. She can figure out what to do in that time. She knows she’ll gather more supplies in Jenda, perhaps even some food to share with the others, if she can get rid of Thomas. She’ll need more arrows and poison too. That barrage wasted more arrows than she would like to admit. And maybe even equipment upgrades. Leather gloves so her hands don’t keep on getting scarred from the arrows would be nice, but they cost a fortune and she has better things to buy.

Alya takes breaks every now and again as they walk to gather any berries she sees along the way. It doesn’t hurt to be prepared. She can see Thomas analyzing her every movement, but she doesn’t let him know that it bothers her. No, she has to focus on food and his shelter, to which he is blissfully oblivious. Funny, considering he was scrambling with his crew to set up the most pathetic shelters she’s ever seen.

She tells him to sit down by a tree when the sun starts to set, and she goes out to gather firewood and larger sticks so he can build himself one of those stupid shelters. She brings back the sticks, dropping them at his feet. He looks up, confused.  _ Oh my lord… _

“What am I supposed to do with these?”

“Build a shelter and a fire. Can’t cook without a fire.” She leaves him to build those, going out into the forest to get their dinner. She crouches in the bushes, waiting patiently for a creature to come by. She finally spots a rabbit and, as silently as she can, she pulls back the arrow and lets it fly. It strikes, and the rabbit falls with a thud. She stands up and strolls over to the rabbit, picking it up by its legs.

She brings it over to Thomas, who’s just barely got a fire started. She wants to laugh at him, but she holds it back. Instead, she drops down next to him, grabbing a couple sticks and a hunting knife from her belt. She takes the rabbit and skins it. She watches Thomas recoil from the corner of her eye, and she smirks a bit. Once that’s done, she cuts it up into portions and sharpens the sticks. She skewers them and hands one of the sticks to Thomas. He holds it out awkwardly over the fire, and she has to show him how to cook it.

“So, uh, how do we know when this is done?” All of his questions have gotten on her nerves, so she simply looks up and stares him dead in the eyes before answering.

“You burn it.” He opens his mouth to protest, but she looks back down at her food. She leaves it over the flame, turning it ever so often, until it’s turned golden brown. Thomas mimics her, and with food in front of him, he stays quiet. They eat in silence, the only sound the crickets chirping.

Once she’s done, she takes her knife and walks to the pond nearby, cleaning it off before sheathing it. She walks back to see Thomas huddled by the slowly dying fire.

“You’ll go to your pile of sticks and not run off, I hope.”

“Of course. Why would I want to run away from a murderer?”

“Why would I stay by a lunatic?” He doesn’t argue. They both wait for the fire to burn out before going to sleep. Thomas crawls into his sad pile of sticks as Alya climbs up onto a thick branch, resting against the trunk of the tree. The moonlight shines down softly on her, and she drifts off in the calmness of night.

~~~~

She wakes up the next morning with the sun shining in her eyes. She rubs the sleep from them and climbs down the tree. She peeks into Thomas’s shelter and sees him still there, fast asleep. The sticks won’t do any major damage, so she kicks them down so they fall on him. He wakes up with a yelp, and scrambles out of the pathetic shelter.

“What the hell was that for?”

“Get up. We’re going.”

“Hey hey hey, wait. You can’t just nearly kill someone and expect to get away.”

“I didn’t nearly kill you. I knew it wouldn’t hurt you badly. Now come on. If you want even a chance at getting back, you’ll come with me to Jenda. We should be there by late afternoon.” He shuts up and follows her. They walk through the forest in near silence, their path of dead leaves mottled by sunlight. Alya eats some of the berries she scavenged yesterday, offering a few to Thomas. He takes them silently, and she can’t help but be unnerved. Why is he acting so calm now? What is he planning?  _ No, no, don’t worry. You’re fine _ . And she knows she is. Still, it’s odd.

They arrived earlier than she expected, the sun still relatively high in the sky. The town is still bustling, little kids running through the street playing tag as their parents shop in the open air markets. She can’t help but feel a pang of regret; she could have lived like them. She could have been able to show her face and not be known as one of the bounty hunters that visit every few months.

She looks up from the ground to see Thomas trying to sneak away, and she grabs his arm quickly, squeezing it tight.

“Don’t go anywhere,” she hisses, dragging him along behind her towards one of the inns she frequents.

“Hey! This lady is- mph!” She quickly clasps her hand over his mouth and yanks him back into an alleyway, smashing him into the wall. He groans with the impact, and she whips out her dagger, pressing it to his throat.

“Don’t you dare. I’ll gut you like I gutted that rabbit if you don’t shut up.” He moves her hand away from his mouth to speak, but she makes sure her arm is still pinning him to the wall.

“What makes you think I’m afraid? You haven’t followed through, clearly, and you never will. I’m not going to give up on my mission just because a little bitch like you keeps on yapping and threatening to bite.” She slips the knife into his skin, and watches as he gurgles and blood starts to leak out of his mouth.

“I’m not doing anything because I need you. You have information, and status. I fully intend to use that as much to my advantage as I can.” She hopes he takes the bait, because she really has no reason to keep him around other than she can’t bring herself to kill him right now.

She looks up as she hears footsteps echo down the cobblestones, meeting, thankfully, a familiar face. The old man looks at her, Thomas, and back to her. She quickly takes back her knife, cleaning it quickly on her cloak and tossing Thomas some bandages.

“My my, Alya, didn’t know you found a sweetheart,” the man says sarcastically.

“Mhm. Thank god it’s you. Think you can take us in through the back entrance?”

“Of course, my dear. Follow me.” The old man starts to walk back down the alleyway. Alya turns and glares at Thomas before following the old man. She hears footsteps behind her as Thomas follows.

The old man opens a door and lets them into the back of a building, a warmly lit room with a couple chairs and a table. The old man and Thomas sit down, Alya still standing as far away from Thomas as possible. The old man fetches a jug of water, wetting a cloth and pressing it to Thomas’s wound.

“You’re quite lucky, chap. She could’ve killed you.”

“I realise that. Do you realise you’re harbouring an assassin?” Alya narrows her eyes at him, but he glares back. Of course he has his bearings now. He’s in a town, he’s an official. He has support.

“Yes,” the man replies simply.

“May I get your name, then?”

“Gregory Aldira.”

“Mr. Aldira, do you understand the implications of your actions?”

“I do indeed sir. Police have interrogated me many times. Being the chief of police won’t change a thing.” Alya smirks as Thomas leans back in shock.

“How-”

“Do I know who you are? You’re quite recognizable, chief, even as ragged as you are now.” At this, Thomas tries his best to seem presentable. “You’re part of quite a debacle, you know. Trying desperately to go out and kill the Pareiens, but instead getting killed yourself. The country is training an army to go in now. How many more do you reckon will be slaughtered before they decide to stop?”

“There will be more?” Alya asks.

“Of course there will, dear. Didn’t you keep up with the news?”

“I haven’t been in any towns for months. Got my pay, bought equipment, and left.” Aldria sighs, and Alya starts to fidget with her cloak. This is can’t be good at all.

“The police chief over here declared that, after finding one of the ‘forest people’, he would go out and kill them all to bring peace. Led the force personally, but after weeks of no report back, all were presumed dead. The current police chief, Ilmaque, is going to send an army out now.”

“That’s crazy! There will be a sea of blood.”

“And not even addressing the problem…” Alya drops down in the chair closest to her. This is a disaster, and it’s all his fault. He did this. He brought on this carnage. It will be the death of a country. Unless…

“Thomas-”

“Commander Buckley, to you.”

“I have a plan. Do you trust me?”

“Trust you? You nearly killed me twice!”

“Yes, but this is important. Do you trust me?” She waits for what feels like an eternity as he thinks over her proposal. Finally, he looks up, skeptical, but clearly as desperate as her.

“What’s your plan?”

“You rest here for a couple days. Recover from injuries. Then, you go back to the capital. Tell them you came back and wish to lead another, small force in.”

“What would I say? Not to mention people won’t trust me if the entire unit got killed.”

“Lie. Say you managed to kill ten of us, your force fought valiantly but were outnumbered. You managed to escape and are ready to take over and train a scouting party. Once you lead them in, we’ll accept them and show them we mean no harm. Maybe then we can sue for peace.”

“Seems like there are a lot of steps missing in between.”

“You have to improvise as you go along. I will too. But we have to do this, for the sake of everyone involved. You have to at least understand that.” He still looks like he doesn’t trust her. Maybe he doesn’t realise how desperate the situation is. Maybe this is what he always wanted. Still, she has to take a chance. She can’t let her people be slaughtered.

“Alright. I can’t guarantee anything, but I can try. I don’t want to see my people slaughtered by you… things.” Good enough.

“So we can agree on one thing. I’ll keep in touch through Mr. Aldira and meet you a couple days into your mission. I’m trusting you for this.” He simply nods.

“And same to you.” She holds out her hand, and he takes it. They shake, creating a sort of pact.

“Mr. Aldira, I’m sure you can take care of Tho- Mr. Buckley.”

“Of course, dear. I wish you the best of luck.” She nods to him, then Thomas, before slipping back out the door. She quickly steps into a couple stores, selling the rings and buying much needed food and arrows, as well as a new sheath. With that, she disappears back into the forest, hoping Thomas will hold up his side of the deal.


End file.
